It's becoming increasingly difficult to sleep.
Just thinking is enough to tire me out,
But at the same time, it leaves me restless
What i get is something in the middle
Laying as still a mass, I can't tell the difference between my vision
or my thoughts. my eyes are open, but feel like they are closing,
ever slowly, like the hour hands path.
As the struggle nears it's close, and my lashes seek to meet,
The Sun treads on my plight
Its light mocks my eyes, restless from what they've seen
they wont close,
They only scorn the Sun